Honesty
by EAdams
Summary: Simple meet cute. No plans for more, but will continue later if I have time and ideas.
1. Chapter 1

Elizabeth sat waiting in a lobby, trying not to bounce her knee in impatience. She had come for an interview, been met by someone from human resources, then been led to this place where she was told to wait where she assumed she was meeting someone in the department she would be working in.

"He's ready for you, Ms. Bennet."

Elizabeth stood and smoothed her skirt, quickly patting her hair into place and taking a calming breath. She tucked her portfolio that held her recent work, resume, and references under her arm and strode through the door the assistant was holding open.

"You must be Ms. Bennet," said the man behind the desk as the door clicked shut behind her. He was looking at a paper on his desk and didn't look up. "Please, have a seat." He gestured to a chair in front of his desk and she sat down.

"Tell me why you want to work for Pemberley," he said, still reading the papers he was flipping through on his desk.

"Pemberley has an excellent reputation for sound principles with both the customer and its staff. Turnover is low, promotions often come from within, and the company has great policies for women."

He finally looked up at her. "And why does that appeal to you personally?"

"Because I want to be able to sleep at night, enjoy where I work, and advance in my career. And because I'm obviously a woman."

"Obviously." He leaned back and crossed his hands over his middle. "What would you consider to be a person's most important quality in business, Ms. Bennet?"

"Honesty and integrity," she responded quickly.

"Really? Not innovation, commitment to excellence, or loyalty?" he asked drily.

She shifted slightly in her seat. "If you are honest, it follows that you are loyal. If you have integrity, you are committed to excellence."

He raised a brow. "And do you have integrity, Ms. Bennet?"

"Absolutely."

His brow raised again. "Would you consider yourself honest?"

"Yes, sir. Definitely."

"Explain, please."

"Explain? That I'm honest?" she asked nervously.

"Yes."

"Um, well, I, sometimes I am too honest for my own good."

"How so?" he asked, his eyes focusing on her intently.

"I have, upon occasion, said more than I should have or told the truth when it would have been better to be silent."

"That sounds like you put your foot in your mouth, Ms. Bennet, not honesty," he said flatly and returned his gaze to the papers in front of him.

"No, I don't!" she exclaimed. "I mean, I don't often say the wrong thing or put my foot in it as you call it, but sometimes, when someone asks me for my honest opinion, I actually give it instead of telling them what they want to hear."

He nodded slowly. "So your difficulty lies in reading people, not in control of your tongue."

Her eyes widened. "Sometimes, sir," she said quietly.

He leaned back again, settling comfortably into his chair. "Do you like this tie, Ms. Bennet?"

"Excuse me?"

"My tie. Do you like it?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Come now, Ms. Bennet. You're asking for a job in my company and have touted your honesty as your most valuable quality. I am now asking for a demonstration of said quality."

She looked at him carefully, somehow sure this was a trap, but not sure where he expected her to falter exactly. Realizing the outcome of this interview depended on the answer to the next question, she squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye.

"No, sir. I do not like it."

She thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch. "And what don't you like about it?"

"Honestly?" she asked and then rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. "I don't like the colors, they don't suit you. The pattern is retro but you don't strike me as a retro kind of man, and the texture looks odd from here, though I'd have to touch it to be sure. You seem to be a silk tie kind of guy. It's also too narrow for your frame. Men with broad shoulders look silly in skinny ties." She stopped. "In my opinion, sir," she added softly and looked at her hands.

"Well said. Your knowledge of menswear is nowhere on your résumé."

"My sister is a tailor."

"Ah," he said. "Ms. Bennet, I'd like to reward honesty with honesty."

She sat forward, suddenly nervous.

"We will not be hiring you today. You're up against stiff competition for this job, against people with years more experience and knowledge of our brand," he said sincerely, elbows on the desk in front of him.

She nodded. "I understand, sir."

"However," she perked up, "I agree with you, about this unfortunate tie and about honesty and integrity being invaluable qualities in an employee. I would encourage you to apply again should another position become available. I believe you'd fit in well at Pemberley."

She smiled and he stood.

"Thank you for your time, sir." She picked up her portfolio and started to turn around.

"Ms. Bennet, there is another company that will have an opening in your field soon. Here is the contact information for Richard Fitzwilliam, the man who will be doing the hiring." He walked around to her side of the desk and handed her a business card. "Let him know I sent you, he should be able to see you this week."

"Thank you, sir." She smiled and put the card in her pocket.

Her hand was on the doorknob when he called her name. She turned around and he was standing right in front of her.

"Yes?"

"Would you like to get a cup of coffee with me?" he asked.

"Coffee? Me and you?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yes. Me and you. You can tell me more about how my clothes don't suit me."

She blushed and looked down. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I knew it was none of my business, but I thought you were testing me and wanted to see if I could be completely honest even when it was uncomfortable."

"You were right, I was testing you. And you passed. Well done. Now, coffee?"

She made a face. "Will my answer make a difference with future hiring decisions or with your recommendation to your friend?"

He stood up straighter. "Absolutely not. I assure you, Ms. Bennet, my commitment to integrity is just as strong as yours."

"Alright. When and where?"

"Tomorrow, nine o'clock at the café on the corner?"

"I'll see you then – I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," she added, somewhat embarrassed.

"Oh, my apologies. Darcy, William Darcy."

Her eyes opened a little wider. "William Darcy, CEO of Pemberley, William Darcy?"

"The one and only. Is that a problem?"

"No, not at all," she answered lightly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He smiled and she left, quickly making her way to the elevator and pressing the button for the ground floor. As soon as the doors closed, she leaned against the wall and fanned herself.

"William Darcy! Oh my g-d!"


	2. Chapter 2

I have no idea how long this will be, but I thought I could post little scenes and vignettes as they come. It's zero angst, so no worries about being stuck with a cliff hanger. Each scene could be read on its own (mostly) or they all go together and you can watch them stumble along the path to proper dating. Have fun and don't take it too seriously.

* * *

 **Honesty II**

Elizabeth walked toward the coffee house, nervously biting her lip and wondering if she was making an enormous mistake.

When she left the interview the day before, she immediately called Richard Fitzwilliam. To her surprise, she was connected to the man himself right away and she had an interview scheduled for the next day. Was having coffee with his friend a bad idea? What if it went badly? What if he didn't like her and told his friend? Or what if he did like her and told his friend and then Fitzwilliam didn't hire her because he thought it would be too messy?

No, this was a bad idea. She should turn around right now and go home. She could call him and postpone until next week. She might know about her chances with the other job by then and have a clearer idea of where to go. But she didn't have his number.

She supposed he had her number, it was on her resume and he had a copy. Was going on a date with someone who had a copy of your resume a good idea?

She told herself to stop being stupid and just go on the date. Maybe it wasn't even a date. Maybe he just thought she was amusing and wanted to be friends.

Yeah, right, because wealthy CEOs ask complete strangers to coffee all the time to look for golf buddies.

Finally, the coffee shop was in sight. She paused and took a deep breath, pulled her shoulders back, and walked in as confidently as she could.

She saw Darcy stand and signal her from a table in the back by the window.

"Good morning," he said pleasantly. He smiled and pulled out her chair, then moved to his side of the table and was seated and comfortable before she had her bag settled at her feet.

"Good morning." She smiled and looked around, searching for a topic of conversation. "I've walked by this place several times but I've never been in."

"It's quite good. I've been coming here regularly for years." A bored-looking waitress ambled over to their table and he looked at Elizabeth expectantly. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Oh, yes, I'll have a spiced chai please, easy on the sugar."

"Another green tea for me." He leaned back and the waitress left, looking even more bored than before. "So, I hear you've got an interview with Fitzwilliam tomorrow."

"He told you that?" she asked, her voice higher than she would have liked.

"Of course."

"So, you two are close?" she asked hesitantly. Four minutes in and she was already bombing their date.

"You could say that." He smiled in that way he had in her interview. His eyes sparkled and his lips quirked up higher on one side than the other, like he had a secret he wasn't about to tell her, but he knew it was something she'd want to know.

Well, she wasn't interested in playing mouse to his cat. This was a date after all, not an interview. He might have the upper hand in a business negotiation, but this was her playground.

She leaned back and settled her hands on her middle, her elbows resting on the chair arms.

"So, William Darcy, tell me, are you in the habit of asking out the women you interview for your company?"

He smiled. "No, not at all. I'm actually not in the habit of interviewing, but something came up and I covered for the VP that was supposed to speak with you."

She nodded. "I see." But she didn't. Not really.

"Don't worry, I don't use my company as a dating service." There was that smile again.

She flushed a little, feeling embarrassed and flattered though she couldn't say why, and tried again to get the upper hand. One look at his expensive suit, ridiculously close shave, and confident demeanor, and she knew it was a lost cause. She was hopelessly out of her depth. She didn't have the slightest idea how to get the upper hand back, if she had ever had it, and she wasn't entirely sure she even wanted it. How would she handle a guy like that? Maybe it was smarter to let him have the reins and see where he led her.

"Can I be honest, William?"

"Please do."

"Usually, when I go on a date with a guy, we've had a conversation before or have mutual friends or something. I'd like to get to know you, but I don't want to just play twenty questions."

"Was there a question in there somewhere?"

She smiled to herself. "I guess not. I'm just wondering why you asked me out."

"Ah." He leaned forward and spoke quietly. "I think you're cute. And smart. And spunky." He leaned back with a tiny grin. "I like spunky."

"You do?"

He nodded. "I do. So your sister is a tailor?"

She shook her head clear for a second and answered. "Yes. She just got a job at Zegna."

His brows shot up. "Impressive."

"She was a pattern maker at another design house for a few years before that, and an apprentice to an old-school bespoke tailor downtown."

"You must be proud."

"I am."

"Is she older or younger?"

"She's a couple years older than me."

He nodded. "Any other family in the city?"

And before she knew it she was telling him everything. About her little sisters in college and her stepbrother who was a total jerk but she loved anyway. She told him about her childhood dog, Daisy, and her parents' divorce when she was twelve. How she double-majored in fine arts and marketing because she wasn't into the idea of being a starving artist but she couldn't completely walk away from her dream.

He listened attentively, asking thoughtful questions and making little comments here or there that let her know she wasn't boring him. After half an hour of doing most of the talking, she sipped her second cup of tea and looked at him over the rim.

"What about you? Big family? Annoying little sisters?"

He chuckled. "Not too big. My parents retired to Spain a few years ago—they say they're too old to put up with winter anymore. I have two sisters, one is married and doing the whole mom thing, she's pregnant with her third right now, and the other is at Vassar studying music."

"Are you the oldest or the dreaded middle child?" she teased.

"Middle child, I'm afraid."

"Aw, poor you! Must have been terrible."

He chuckled. "You have no idea."

She stretched her hand across the table a bit and he met her halfway, grabbing her hand tightly in his.

"I like you, Elizabeth."

"You do?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes. Does that surprise you?"

"Well, yeah."

He gave her a look she couldn't decipher and tilted his head. "I'd like to see you again. Are you free Friday night?"

"That's tomorrow." He continued looking at her expectantly and she answered, "I have plans. But I'm free Saturday."

"Dinner and a movie?"

"Sounds good. Let me know when and where?"

"I can pick you up."

She thought for a second, wondering if she wanted to let him know where she lived. She barely knew him, after all.

"I can drive."

He smiled and she got the feeling he knew exactly what she had been thinking.

"I'll make a reservation and send you the details." He looked at his watch and back to her. "I've got a meeting in fifteen minutes. Thank you for meeting me today. I've enjoyed it."

"You're welcome," she said haltingly.

He made sure he had her number then looked at her with gentle eyes, kissed her cheek, and left. She stared after him for a moment, wondering about his straightforward wooing tactics and his ridiculously cute smile when her phone dinged. She had a new text message from an unfamiliar number.

 _It's William. Save this number. You're going to need it._

She suppressed the urge to squeal and saved his number, then stepped outside, wondering what she would wear Saturday night and where he was going to take her and if he would kiss her.

This letting her mind go thing was kind of fun.


End file.
